


Sordid Triangle

by Koroshimasu



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Depressed Cloud Strife, Implied Cloud x Sephiroth, Implied Sexual Content, Loneliness, M/M, Post-Advent Children (Compilation of FFVII), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love, Why the hell do I write these
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25585366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koroshimasu/pseuds/Koroshimasu
Summary: Alone at the end of the world, Cloud and Vincent have only each other to pick up the discarded pieces of their past. Cloud wants to forget, Vincent doesn’t. One man can forget, and the other refuses.
Relationships: Cloud Strife/Vincent Valentine, Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Kudos: 17





	Sordid Triangle

**Sordid Triangle**

A broken, shattered Cloud Strife lay curled up on his side, his arms crossed over his chest. Every few seconds, a violent shock ran through his body, causing his sore muscles to contract. A fleeting glance at the clock poised on the wall before his bed informed him that it was time he forgot sleep and wandered about the vacant Shinra Mansion.

This of course had been a habit for the better part of nearly three years. Every night around this time, he would walk along the empty, barren hallways and corridors, his memories haunting him as he thought back to all the losses he’d suffered.

Tifa was gone, Aerith had sacrificed to save their lives, and the Shinra Army had wiped everyone else out. The members of Avalanche suffered greatly, and Cloud was the lone survivor. He only realized now that death was far greater than a lifetime of cowardly solitude. He’d made it out only because Barret and Biggs had pushed him through the burning building before it collapsed over their heads.

As grateful as he was, he still felt that they’d been the selfish ones. They had been set free by death, while he’d been eternally cursed to live and suffer all alone. This place didn’t even keep him safe; it was a prison.

Its underground rooms were vast, and the walls were thick. The doors were all made of steel and the small windows which allowed the youth to look above the ground were often barred. Not even a mouse could get in or out.

With nothing left to do, and nowhere left to go, Cloud started to tremble. He didn’t enjoy remembering, but the times he did, he immediately thought of the most important person in his entire life; his lover, Sephiroth. The One Winged Angel was no more, but his betrayal wouldn’t ever be something Cloud could easily wipe out of his mind and heart.

Though he would never forget the One Winged Angel’s face, his body was often confused and it hurt. It felt as though he’d torn all his muscles into pieces. He couldn’t even find the strength to raise his eyelids.

Why had he ever allowed himself to trust and become seduced by such a devious creature? Why had he thrown his trust so blindly at the enemy, forgetting his promises to his cherished friends? He may as well have held the weapons and aimed the firearms right at the heads and hearts. What he’d done was just as damaging and had cost them their lives.

Nearly collapsing into a wall, before he crashed to his knees, his ears caught the sound of a heavy door turning and the hinges creaking as it was pulled open. Cloud then heard a pair of boots descend the stairs, the soles clicking when they touched the surface of the steps.

Wincing, Cloud braced himself, as he knew that walk because there was always a distinctive limp audible in it.

He wasn’t truly alone…his keeper, former Turk member Vincent Valentine at least had the courtesy to visit him, every now and then. A noble gesture, though one Cloud was starting to despise and abhor. Yes, he was wounded, yes, he bled many times without cause or reason, and yes, he suffered interminably from nightmares. But he wasn’t a helpless baby; he wanted to settle his own matters the way he should have many years ago.

They’d spent the first year amicably enough, but then, perhaps due to his overprotective nature, or perhaps due to the loss of their friends and misbegotten guilt attaching itself to his name, Vincent started smothering Cloud. There was a distinction between nurturing and protecting, and they’d crossed that line many months ago.

Vincent hardly gave him room to breathe. If Cloud so much as gasped, Vincent, who could be on the other end of the mansion, somehow would hear it, and he’d come racing to cradle Cloud in his arms.

Pathetic.

He approached the youth now in the dark hallway and crouched down before the blond. Gently grabbing onto the adolescent who’d been so stricken with pain, when he drew the younger male up to his feet, Cloud let out a soft sigh. He could already feel a stinging jab in his upper arm. Knowing it was the claw sported on the warrior’s left hand, Cloud sank against it. When he leaned into the sturdy weight of Vincent, he felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his strained shoulders. Finally, he’d been able to swim up to the surface after being held underwater.

No words were exchanged. Vincent quickly examined his companion, opening one of Cloud’s eyelids to flash a serious glare straight into his eyeball. Then, like a doctor, he felt his way along Cloud’s neck, chest, hips, arms and legs for fractures. It was quite effortless and a huge waste of time, as Cloud had no broken bones this time. It had happened twice before, but not this time.

He then turned the younger man onto his back, wrapping his free arm around his shoulder. His hand was placed underneath the blond’s armpit while he hooked his other arm under Cloud’s thin knees. Lifting the younger man up easily as though he were but a bag of feathers, they both knew that due to his lack of proper diet, Cloud weighed nothing. Though Vincent possessed extraordinary strength, even for a man with a weak leg after years of battle, Cloud’s reduced weight was alarming in every sense.

Like a swift, quiet shadow, Vincent ascended the grand, spiral staircase quite easily. The moonlight seeped in through the barred windows, highlighting Cloud’s sickly features. He glanced up for a moment, and as always, his mind played tricks on him. Sephiroth usually appeared in Vincent’s place, his angry visage almost shouting and screaming at Cloud. This was the hell he’d been damned to suffer through…

Vincent had the strength of an ox and he carried Cloud to his room without any effort. The door opened, and the blond soon was placed right in the center of his large, soft bed.

Things had indeed changed between them, that was for sure. A few months ago, his keeper would have been less gentle, carrying Cloud roughly to cause him more pain. But he had eased down and now, Vincent was a lot more caring and so very gentle. Though Cloud appreciated it, the need to punish himself for his stupid, reckless crimes often had been delivered, before. Vincent had been stern, sometimes refusing to speak with him for weeks. That had sufficed, but once the pain and guilt reared their ugly heads, like a drug-addicted person, Cloud craved for worse punishments Vincent couldn’t keep up with.

Cloud didn’t care anymore that this was his prison. They both knew it was for the best to be here. No one was coming for them, and they only had each other to rely on. A simplistic end to a rather adventurous life.

Vincent soon moved to the bathroom, retrieving a ceramic bowl of water and a washcloth. Leaning over the white porcelain-skinned youth upon his return, he angrily splashed cold water across his junior’s face, as if trying to shock the exhaustion from his features.

Not even the least bit shocked, Cloud gently rubbed his face, swiping the water droplets off his clammy skin as he sat up very slowly. It took all the effort in the world to pull the move off, and already, he felt he needed to go to sleep, again.

The washcloth assaulted his face, next, all without warning. The rough texture grated his pale skin raw, but he didn’t mind. He turned and allowed a glance to the mirror next to the bed; the reflection of the young man he no longer knew to be himself appearing so battered and broken. It greeted him hauntingly, but he hardly averted his eyes. He didn’t recognize this shell of his own self.

He turned a cold shoulder to the stranger staring back at himself, eyes vermilion like fiery sea glass, but just as empty and tired as his own mako-infused orbs. So lifeless and dull...no light was to be found between their eyes, and he ceased looking for one. He wanted nothing more than to lay down and go to sleep, but that dreary feeling of ‘I hope I never wake up’ ringing in his mind never allowed for it.

Vincent disappeared again, no doubt to put away the bowl and cloth. He opened the bathroom door and wandered about silently, carefully, rummaging around cabinets and drawers before he sauntered back into the bedroom.

Cloud helplessly stared at him, meanwhile understanding that such a wish to go to an eternal sleep he would never rouse or wake from would never come true.

When Vincent moved to exit the room, Cloud leapt up and latched onto his wrist. “Stay…don’t leave me alone…”

Obediently, his tall, lanky companion nodded, his long, ebony hair flowing elegantly in the moonlight.

When he had his attention, Cloud continued, each word he spoke sounding raspier than its predecessor. “The thing that is killing me is the loneliness. I have no one. My family was killed so many years ago. Tonight is New Year’s Eve and I’m alone. It’s just me and the moon.”

Vincent still hadn’t uttered a word, but Cloud wasn’t offended. Truthfully, he didn’t think he could handle it if the other man spoke; he just wanted for him to listen.

“I wonder what will await me next year. I have no solutions. I don’t see any point in my life anymore. I want to be dead. I want to die.” The tears couldn’t even form; he was so dehydrated.

Rubbing his eyes, he whimpered, “I once believed that I would be reunited with all my loved ones after death, but I don’t have those thoughts anymore, because I know they are gone, and they will never return. I just want to die to stop my suffering. I welcome death.”

As the heavy, bitter silence stank up the room, Vincent carefully crawled quietly onto the bed, stretching his own bruised legs and allowing that delicious, tingling feeling of relaxation to run up Cloud’s spine once another person’s body heat was pressed against his own. As the older male settled onto his side, Cloud’s hands curled in close to his senior’s chest.

Eyes almost shutting on their own accord, Cloud could feel that steady thumping of a heart against his fingertips, quiet and fast like a small bird’s. His eyelids were heavy, but his eyes were wide open, fearful, pupils dilated. He couldn’t take his gaze from the man lying before himself.

There, beneath the moonlight hovering over Vincent’s face, a shadow formed deeper than any natural darkness; spidery tendrils of heavy ink spilling like a foreboding fog across the floor. Then, they rose out of the wood and the walls and began to twist into the shape of a man. Cloud recognized this man very well; his body elongated to the tips of his toes, head thrown back and a grin on his enticingly pink lips.

Slowly, he became solid and a guttural laugh rumbled deeply in his throat. His long, sweeping hair was as silvery and pale as fresh snow, his eyes blazing with emerald hues. The unmistakable slits often reminded the younger male of a feline, and there they were…there, insanity lurked, as cruel and unruly as fire.

There was no echo of footsteps as he approached the bed, just the sound of Cloud’s shallow breathing overwhelmed by otherwise piercing silence. When the phantom of his former lover reached the edge of the mattress, his body lurched as he crawled onto the bed on all fours, fingers crushing the dark sheets, sharp nails gripping fabric. There was a sort of strength in the graceful curve of his back; his naked form was powerful, yet soft and lithe and Cloud only cringed at the sight of it.

Breath caught in his throat, his fingers turned icy cold and his jaw hung open. “Why?” was the only thing he managed to choke out.

Why had he done it? Was it only to release some stress? Only to explore nothing other than sexual desires? Why had ever allowed himself to become one with the infernal, fallen angel? Why had he hearkened to his calls? Why had he danced to the requiem Sephiroth played and orchestrated? Why had he opened and offered his body and his soul to such a foul entity?

Cloud shivered violently when he realized that Vincent was so close that he was actually whispering in his ear. Before he could react, the tall, mysterious former Turk pinned his arms above his head roughly. In one fell swoop, Vincent deftly captured Cloud’s lips, suffocating his surprised cry.

He expected his kiss to be rough; he didn’t know what else to expect since the first time the older male had refrained from kissing him. But the mouth pressing against his own was surprisingly gentle and almost caring, compared to how demanding Sephiroth’s had been every time they kissed. This unexpected tenderness confused the junior and made him forget all of the protests he had thought up. Though they churned like bile rising in his chest and floating into his throat, he soon turned into a boneless heap.

Cloud found himself melting into the kiss, tilting his head slightly and responding to the probing tongue against his lips. Vincent hadn’t been someone Cloud normally associated with sexual intimacy, but now, the dark-haired man proved to be quite skilled at making the irritated, damaged blond forget all his anger and all his resentment. The older male used that moment of docility to break the kiss in order to place slow, wet kisses along Cloud’s prominent jaw and up to his ear.

A small moan escaped the delinquent’s lip as his senior sensually nibbled and bit down on his earlobe. He could barely believe that a sound like this could come from his own lips; it made him remember he should be protesting against those gentle ministrations rather than desiring for more of them.

He didn’t deserve this…he didn’t need anyone to be gentle with him and forgive him. He needed to be damned…he needed to suffer, forever.

Looming over the bed, Sephiroth outstretched his hand, brushing his fingers through the shaking youth’s blond hair. He pursed his lips into a smirk as the former infantryman gaped feebly past him. He took in the beautiful bruises all across his pale skin, accentuating his cheekbones and his clavicle. The black and the blue against white was almost artistic.

A breath of warm air suddenly blasted into Cloud’s ear, an edge of desperation clinging to the words spoken a moment later. “You are so beautiful, Cloud,” Vincent whispered into the nape of his junior’s neck, pressing his mouth against the alabaster pallor of Cloud’s throat and licking away almost wildly as he added nibbles and gnawing to the mix.

When Sephiroth’s sharp, white teeth gleamed at him, hitting him straight in the gut, Cloud gasped. Vincent’s teeth sank into the first layer of his skin. Shit, he felt it through his skin. God, he felt so real…Sephiroth even _looked_ real as he stood by the bed.

The quick rasping sounds as he tried to drink air back into his lungs exhilarated himself. Cloud felt the first flame of passion surging in his stomach when Vincent positioned himself directly over his frame. Ardently, he leaned down to kiss the newly forming bruises around his junior’s throat. There was such beauty in this suffering. Cloud didn’t want anyone to hold back on telling him so, as Sephiroth never held back…

Cupping his chin in a hand, Vincent then forcefully pressed his lips to the blond’s and tasted his delirium.

Somewhere, a voice in the back of Cloud’s mind finally found courage to scream.

“ENOUGH!”

With a mighty roar he didn’t ever associate with himself, Cloud reared up, shoved Vincent away from himself, and slapped the other man as hard as he could across the left cheek.

Cradling the sore area even though he likely felt nothing due to how desensitized he’d become over the dastardly years, Vincent only gazed down forlornly at the wrinkled sheets. A soft frown creased his brow as his long, dark hair fell around down to his shoulders. Weakly, almost, he shook before he composed himself.

As Cloud’s chest heaved in and out, up and down like someone had been chasing him for hours, Vincent inhaled once, and it was a more confident, steady sound in the quiet of the room.

“I love you, Cloud…I always have, even though you chose him over me.”

_“Even though you killed everyone we cared for, I still love you.”_

Cloud didn’t need to hear it. “I hate you,” he angrily spat, swallowing a sob in an attempt to appear defiant and unwavering. With that uttered, he fell limply to the mattress, burying his face in his pillow.

Nothing good would ever come from listening to those words; time couldn’t be reversed, and the dead wouldn’t ever be given life, again. It solved nothing to hear such things, and their problems always would be there to greet them at a later date, regardless. What good would those words be for healing his gaping, festering wounds? In the end, the answer was plain and simple, and he was through with empty words.

The bed only groaned when Vincent moved off it, padding across the floor like a ghost and then softly closing the door after his exit.

Cloud still didn’t want him to move away, but he never knew how to say the damn words. All he could do now before dawn was what he’d grown accustomed to doing for three full years.

Silently, he simply lay as still as he could manage, nearly drowning himself in his own tears. Now that he could form them, and now that they spilled so freely, they served as his only companions during the long, lonely night.

**END**


End file.
